The combat system's assistance I receive is truly minor, yet it is subtly provided at a level that I cannot do without.

For instance, it allows me to strike straight without stumbling when I swing my sword, helps distribute my strength when parrying a blade, or corrects my aim so I don't miss the target's vital point.

Well, things like that.

When skills like Survival Instinct: Suggest Evasion Route and Evasion Counterattack: Reveal Openings and Weaknesses are added to this, combat becomes even easier.

CLANG! CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

No. Let me correct myself. Only with that can the Berserker and I barely maintain an even footing.

It was hard to tell whether the Berserker was just that strong, or if the system was just that overpowered.

CLAAANG!

Regardless, metallic clashes rang out clearly in the night forest as sparks flew.

The oil lamp placed between us bobbed whenever the earth shook, but it never tipped over.

SWOOSH!

I feigned a downward strike, twisting my wrist to slash low instead.

In response, the Berserker dealt with it by kicking the shaft of her weapon with her foot instead of forcefully pulling out the blade stuck in the ground.

CLANG! The two weapons, which relied on weight rather than sharpness, clashed and rang with the sound of iron. I thought I had struck a blind spot in my own way, but she truly wasn't an easy opponent.

"Hup!"

Meanwhile, the Berserker grabbed the shaft that was about to plummet back into the ground from the shock of the collision, and launched a thrust right away.

This time, it was my crisis. My Zweihander had also bounced upward from the impact.

But perhaps this was also an opportunity. I twisted my body as I looked at the diverging paths glowing white from my skill.

SWISH!

The hem of the coat fluttering at my waist was pierced by the halberd. But that was all. The halberd had narrowly grazed past my flank, merely tearing the fabric without cutting into flesh.

SWOOSH.

On the other hand, my body was in the middle of executing a full rotation, my ankle and waist twisting.

My raised arm spun the Zweihander by shifting my wrist and grip. It was to build momentum.

"...!"

However, the most important thing was distance.

The Berserker had closed in to thrust her halberd, and I had also narrowed the gap by slipping right past her weapon.

She was now within my range as well. I could cut her.

SWISH!

I gripped as far back on the hilt as possible and swung the sword in a massive arc like a windmill, putting maximum strength into my hands.

The Berserker's golden eyes wavered.

CLANG!

The halberd, barely recovered and thrust forward again, blocked my sword. It was a similar method to when I had blocked her halberd. By wedging the sword into the gap between the two blades, it completely cut off the chain of attacks.

"Heup!"

No, perhaps she was aiming for more than that.

The Berserker rolled the shaft within her palms. She didn't swing the halberd in an arc, but merely rotated its shaft.

As a result, the interlocked blades tightened further, and the applied pressure increased. It was similar to the moment a bottle opener pries off a beer cap.

CREEEEAK. A dangerous sound rang out from both the halberd's blade and my Zweihander. At this rate, they would either break or bend.

WHOOSH!

However, the option the Berserker chose was not to break it. It was to pull it right in.

"...!"

As my sword was pulled in like it was being sucked away, I reflexively tightened my grip on the hilt.

'Is she trying to disarm me?!' I realized her intent the very next moment.

We hadn't established the conditions for defeat, but getting disarmed certainly wasn't the path to victory.

I had no intention of meekly giving up my weapon like this. I reflexively twisted the sword. It was an action faster than my brain's judgment.

SCREEEECH!

With a spine-chilling screech, my sword somehow slipped out from the gap. Dozens of sparks flying in the pitch-black darkness were strikingly clear.

"Hup!"

However, the Berserker didn't just watch it happen, either.

She executed a rapid thrust the moment I tried to step back. My Zweihander still hadn't fully separated from her halberd.

SCREECH.

'Ah, this reminds me of an old movie I watched for an assignment. The sound of scratching a green chalkboard in that movie was exactly like this.'

After briefly entertaining that random thought, I twisted my grip on the Zweihander in reverse. If the Berserker had tightened the interlock earlier, now it was my turn to do the tightening.

CRRRRACK!

But it's fine. It'll be fine.

I trusted my sword, which had never dropped below 90 durability and had always restored itself back to 100 even when it dipped into the low 90s.

CRASH!

"...!"

Between the halberd and the Zweihander, the stronger one was undoubtedly mine.

SWOOSH.

I knew it! I briefly ignored the welling sense of thrill and maneuvered my freed sword after breaking the halberd's axe blade.

Because I didn't doubt that mine would break my opponent's, my weapon hadn't plunged meaninglessly into the ground.

Instead, as I adjusted its trajectory, the power unleashed the moment it broke free poured straight into acceleration. The sword spun exactly like a windmill.

CLASH!

The Berserker hastily matched my swing, but I had the upper hand in accumulated power and momentum. The halberd's shaft and my Zweihander collided, and the shaft was pushed back.

Which meant? An unbridgeable gap had now formed between me, who was still accelerating, and the Berserker, whose chain of attacks had been smashed.

She absolutely could not block this.

SWISH!

She knew this too, so she attempted something else instead of guarding.

Being knocked back meant the weapon head went backward and the butt end came forward, and besides, the axe blade was smashed and useless anyway.

She simply thrust the butt end forward to attack me.

It was an attack utilizing the 2.5-meter reach that remained intact even though the axe blade was broken.

However, it was a trajectory I could dodge. With that, the answer to our tactical puzzle was decided.

I evaded the shaft just like before and swung my sword.

My sword surged toward her.

THUD!

Right after, something heavy dropped into the grass. THWACK! My Zweihander plunging into the ground was a bonus.

"..."

"..."

I quickly retraced what had made that sound just now, and why my Zweihander hadn't landed a direct hit.

The answer laid right in my line of sight.

The Berserker had backed away while abandoning her weapon, and I had struck the empty space she left behind. That was all.

"Will we continue?"

'Did I win? Did I just win?'

I tried not to get ahead of myself at the sneaking thought. Since a broken weapon didn't necessarily equate to combat incapability, I figured she might not count this as a loss.

Instead, I was certain the next attack wouldn't come immediately. My instincts judged that even if it devolved into a fistfight, it wouldn't happen instantly.

Therefore, I leisurely retrieved my sword stuck in the ground.

As I did, the sword, which had parted the grass and plunged deep into the damp mud, came up covered in dirt. It was lodged so deeply that I had to put some strength into pulling it out.

'I feel a bit like King Arthur.'

"... It is my defeat."

Then, wait.

Right as I fully pulled my sword out, the Berserker clenched her fists and declared so. Whenever the lamplight danced, the gold in her eyes seemed to melt.

"I pay my respects to your strength."

However, that melting gold wasn't as distorted an image as I'd thought. It was unexpected.

Since she lost because of a weapon difference rather than a skill difference, I thought there might be some lingering anger or regret.

Ah, come to think of it, maybe it wasn't so unexpected? She was usually quite hearty and easygoing. Perhaps she accepted even variables like this as part of her own capabilities.

Anyway, holding a grudge over this or not, both suited the Berserker. And because of that, it felt a bit awkward to be too happy about it.

I appropriately dissipated the elated feeling from my victory.

"... You did well, too."

In the meantime, the Berserker picked up her broken weapon and praised it for its hard work. Rather than truly treating it like a person, it looked more like she was offering the minimum respect to a weapon she had favored for so long as she sent it off.

'But smashing the weapon isn't my faul— No. Is it my fault? I didn't break it accidentally but on purpose, so is it right to say it's my fault?'

'It was a fight that could have continued even if I hadn't broken it, and if it came down to it, it would've been fine for me to lose... Though conceptually, I couldn't tolerate defeat, of course.'

CLINK. Lost in thought, I lightly kicked the blade up with the toe of my military boot. The sword spun a half-turn and landed on my shoulder.

"The Berserker will leave in a little while. Go on ahead."

The Berserker spoke up then.

Because she said that while looking at her weapon, my heart sank unnecessarily. It was because she looked like she was mourning and lamenting her broken weapon.

However, looking at her faintly visible face and voice again, she didn't seem to care much about the broken weapon.

Her attitude was far too casual and calm to suggest any lingering regrets.

Then what was the reason she said she'd head back in a bit?

'Does she not care about the weapon shattering, but wants to chew over the cause of her defeat? Because she might forget if she waits to review it in the city?'

'But if she dawdles too long, dawn will break. Which means it'll become difficult to jump over the city walls.'

"Demon Knight."

'... Well, I don't need to worry about that. We aren't close enough to worry about and take care of each other anyway.'

"Thank you for humoring my stubbornness today."

I left that place behind, turning my back to the Berserker's words of gratitude.

Perhaps the dawn dew was too cold; the enjoyable mood from just moments ago was nowhere to be found.

It was that kind of conclusion.

* * *

["Followers of Envy still remain? That is surprising."]

An entity with purple hair that dyed black toward the tips, eyes narrowed to slits so fine the pupils couldn't be seen, and wearing a dress plunging all the way down to the navel let out a gasp of sorts.

FLUTTER. Beside him, Pandemonium, several crows were flying around.

["Their name should have been digested ages ago."]

"It seems their power was maintained until the name was fully absorbed."

["Stating the obvious."]

He placed one of the crows on his forearm and replied irritably.

Of course, as a demon rather than a human, he knew better than anyone that contracts were maintained through names.

Unlike humans, whose essence does not change even if their names do, demons have their names and essence linked, so it was only natural.

["Whether the name was devoured and fully absorbed, or simply scattered and decomposed into the void, the contract would have duly remained in effect until it vanished completely in some form. Because that is what a 'contract' is."]

You can deceive, but you cannot break it. That is a contract.

Absolute, the most unfair yet the most fair, and the most supreme law.

One that neither the gods of this world nor they, the invaders from another world, could ever evade.

["But it is funny. As I absorbed the name, the contract's efficacy would have dropped, and the power they held would have slowly faded. Do they still wish to follow the dead, knowing that?"]

"Of course. If you were to fall, we too would..."

["I have no need for empty words. Or do you want me to be disappointed?"]

"I apologize."

The word 'loyalty' does not suit the emotion of greed. Cooperation to achieve a goal, or a partnership to earn more—those were what suited it.

In the same vein, Pandemonium had no desire to hear such empty platitudes.

After all, his criterion for selecting contractors was not whether they would act for him the moment he fell, but rather if they were the type of bastards who would lunge to steal everything from him.

Knowing that, such empty words held no meaning whatsoever. They were worthless.

They weren't profitable.

Therefore, they were unnecessary.

["Make up for your lost points with actions. Clean it all up."]

"Yes, I will take care of it immediately."

["What happened to the hidden snake of the sea?"]

"We are in the process of making contact. The first and second envoys were killed by mermen, and the third was eaten by the snake, so we have now sent a fourth envoy."

["Hah, tigers and snakes alike, these damn beasts."]

If he had been able to exert his full power, he wouldn't have let them act so insolently. Pandemonium felt a deep annoyance at this.

Even though he had devoured all the stolen power—no, precisely because devouring it had only deepened his thirst for might, it felt even worse.

"Do not worry. We will surely bring back good news this time."

["Hah, of course you must."]

But... that too would be resolved soon.

Feeling the fragments of power gathering one after another, Pandemonium neatly brought his long, spindly fingers—like spider legs—together.

His fingers, impossibly long compared to his palms, resembled both a bird's talons and a hedgehog's quills.

["Because if you screw up this opportunity, you'll earn not only my disappointment but the King's as well."]

And gently hidden within them was the King's seal.

["Keep this in mind. There is no next time for us."]

The image of an entity with the wings of a bird and a bat, the head of a goat, the horns of a ram, the tail of a snake, the teeth of a boar, and the legs of a donkey shone more wickedly than anything else.